


Cold

by trashassassin



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Confessions, Cooking, Dadgil, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Mild Sexual Content, Moving, Non-Explicit Sex, Romantic Yard Work, Series, Sexual Frustration, Shopping, Showers, Slow Burn, Smut, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27655198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashassassin/pseuds/trashassassin
Summary: You and Vergil begin your life together as a married couple and, in spite of a few brief hiccups, things seem to be going just fine until an unexpected turn of events challenges your relationship.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 165





	1. Compulsion

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still a bit confused about this whole chaptered series thing and I'm trying my best not to be very old about it, so bare with me, folks.
> 
> Whoo boy. So on the one hand, we have Two Halves of a Whole, which is very fun and fluffy, and has a happy ending planned for everyone involved (spoilers). And on the other, we have this. I'm just gonna warn y'all up front that this one is not going to be for the faint of heart. Major angst incoming, and I do mean major. If you decide to continue, consider this your final warning.
> 
> This entire series and its name were inspired by the song Cold by Aqualung and Lucy Schwartz. If you recognize what this is from, it may give you a bit of a hint for what you're in for.
> 
> (Side note, upon posting the new chapter I realized chapter one was listed twice for some reason ? So I deleted the duplicate. Sorry if your comment got mixed up in that and got deleted. Don't mind me, just being old again.)

The wind hit your face as soon as you stepped out of the car and, although you had made sure to dress appropriately for the time of year, you still weren't prepared for just how cold it was. This was all still a bit surreal to you. As you walked up the driveway, you kept having to remind yourself that it was now _your_ driveway.

Dante's business had been skyrocketing in recent years to deal with the last lingering effects of the demon world spilling into the human one, so naturally, he had taken it upon himself to buy you a few small gifts, such as the house you were about to enter.

It was a modest size and needed a bit of fixing up, which was evident even from the outside, but it was yours, paid in full from the outset.

You'd always had a certain idea of what your life would look like when you'd finally "made it." And it looked a bit like this, but you never would have expected it to come about in such an odd way.

You even had a person to share it with, something you'd never counted on in the past.

You and Vergil had been married now for just under a year, a fact that was equally surreal to you the more you thought about it. Being married was never a concrete part of your future plans, but it had ended up falling into your lap regardless.

You had previously had a nebulous concept of what your future spouse might be like: kind, driven, fashionable, maybe a little silly when the situation called for it. So, you weren't sure why you had fallen for Vergil so immediately. He'd barely acknowledged you for the first few months you'd know each other, to the extent that you'd once thought it impossible for him to ever return the feelings you had developed for him.

So much of the draw he had came from the fact that he had always been a bit of a mystery to you. He had always appeared very quiet and reserved, seldom giving you the slightest glimpse into his mind, even on the occasions that he did speak. He had such an odd history, which you had only managed to hear about through stories from Dante, and something compelled you to try and find out more.

Dante had always tried very gently to talk you out of it all. But, in the end, he'd accepted the fact that you were, "a grown woman who could make her own decisions, regardless of how potentially shitty they might be."

Thinking of this always brought a smile to your face. You could hear it so clearly in his voice, even now.

In spite of Dante's dissuasion, you had been successful in this goal beyond your wildest imaginings, as evidenced by the fact that Vergil was currently walking beside you up to the front door of your new home.

What a bizarre road your life had taken you down. As you fished the key out of your pocket, you almost expected it not to work, for you to suddenly snap out of the delusion that this was ever actually your house, that Dante had simply pulled a very cruel prank on the two of you.

But, no. As you inserted the key into the lock, it turned exactly as it should have. You turned back toward Vergil and smiled, and detected only a slight hint of one in response.

"You ready?" you asked, and he nodded once.

You pushed the door open and turned on the light.

Okay, perhaps Dante had played a bit of a joke on you after all. His assessment of the house, which had been that it simply needed, "a bit of fixing up," had been a rather gross understatement.

Most of the walls were unfinished, some of them even sporting some rather sizable holes; the furniture was either nonexistent or in an incomplete set; the door leading out to the backyard flapped open just a bit every time the wind blew, causing the area you were standing in to be uncomfortably cool and damp.

You had quite a bit more work ahead of you than you'd planned for, but it wasn't as though you were completely unprepared. You'd stopped to pick up a number of things, "just in case," and, apparently, you would end up needing just about all of them.

Vergil had made no attempt to protest in spite of the frequent stops you'd had to make in order to collect everything. He agreed with you on the front that it was better to be safe than sorry, but it was clear to you now that Dante did not. You would have to have a word with him about this.

"Well, it's not exactly what I was expecting," you said.

"That's putting it delicately," said Vergil. "I would expect nothing less from my little brother."

You wanted to believe that Dante had had the best of intentions in making his purchase.

"You can go ahead and start unloading stuff," you said. "I'm gonna call him real quick."

Vergil nodded to you, a clearly annoyed expression on his face, then stepped back out through the front door. Your phone had no signal inside the house, so you had to step outside into the backyard to make the call.

It was in no better shape than the rest of the house. The lawn was full of trees that clearly hadn't been taken care of in quite some time, along with all of the leaves and branches they'd dropped over the years, nor had the lawn been mowed or sprayed for the numerous weeds that threatened to poke through the bottom of your sneakers.

You shook your head at the sight, then dialed Dante's number as soon as you managed to get an adequate number of bars. He let it ring for a bit, in spite of the fact that you would have put money down on the fact that he wasn't busy at the time.

"Hey!" he said. "Did you guys make it to the house okay?"

You sighed.

"Yes, we did," you replied. "When were you gonna tell us that it hasn't been occupied in the last fifty years, or so?"

"Oh, come on. It isn't _that_ bad."

"No, it's that bad. Have you seen the inside?"

"As a matter of fact, I have."

"Now, my husband seems to be under the impression that you've done this out of spite, so-"

Dante laughed out loud.

"Of course he is," he said. "Look, I only picked it because it has everything you guys were looking for: a nice big backyard, a bathtub, a balcony. It even has a fireplace. And it was very reasonably priced, might I add. It would have been foolish not to buy it!"

"It was very reasonably priced because it's about to fall apart."

"Look." He paused. "I know it's in a little bit of a less than ideal state right now."

"That's one way to put it."

"But, I'm willing to stop by every once in a while to help you guys out with the renovations. How does that sound?"

You had to laugh at this notion.

"I can't imagine you and Vergil resisting the urge to slit each other's throats long enough to make that work," you said.

"I'm sure he can manage to behave himself as long as you're around."

"Don't act like you're not the one starting shit!"

"Not always, alright? Anyway, I wouldn't have bought the house if I didn't think you guys could handle it. You just gotta have a little faith in yourselves."

"Whatever you say." You weren't going to press the issue as there wasn't really much that could be done about it now. "If we need your help, I'll let you know."

"Sounds like a plan."

You said your goodbyes, then hung up the phone and headed back into the house where you saw Vergil attempting to haul a rather large box through the front door.

"Lemme help you with that," you said.

"I got it," he said. "What did my brother have to say for himself?"

"He said this house has everything we need, so he would have been a fool not to get it."

"He's a fool regardless."

"Let me finish." You held your hand up to stop him. "I mean, he's not wrong. And it's not so bad, is it? In a way, this gives us a lot more freedom."

"Is that what he told you?"

"No, that's what I'm telling you. I feel like, maybe, we can have a little fun with this once the major stuff is taken care of."

He thought for a moment.

"I suppose you have a point," he said.

"That's the spirit," you said. "We might as well make the most of it. It could be a lot worse."

Vergil heaved the box onto the dining room table.

"It can always be worse," he said.

"There ya go."

He smirked.

"I was being facetious," he said.

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms behind his neck.

"Look at me," you said, and he did so. "Look at all of this." You lifted your hands toward the ceiling above you. "This is our house. Sure, it might be a little fucked up, but it belongs to us. This is our space now and we can make it however we want."

He placed his hands on your lower back and pulled you in closer.

"I suppose you have a point," he said. "I've never had anything like that before."

"Neither have I. I mean, you gotta admit, it's a little exciting, right?"

"Maybe."

"Come on." You motioned your head back toward the door. "Let's get the rest of our stuff unloaded."

Prior to Dante's very generous, if a bit misguided, gift, the two of you had lived in a small apartment that was located in a complex near the center of town. It was very noisy most days and offered little in the way of privacy due to its paper thin walls and the proximity of everyone's front doors to one another. Vergil did his best to tolerate the cramped atmosphere, but you could tell that he was uncomfortable more often than not, especially after the two of you had officially gotten married.

It was as though a switch had flipped inside of his head. He had always been very protective of you, but he spent the entire night after the ceremony hovering around you no matter where you went. He couldn't keep his hands off you, and not in a sexual way either. Whenever he was near you, his hands would be at your waist or over your shoulders, or at the small of your back, guiding you as you walked.

You had asked him why he was doing this and he'd simply said that he wanted to be close to you, though you were fairly sure that your curiosity had embarrassed him as you found him actively trying to stop himself from doing similar things in the future.  
As well as you knew him now, so much of him and his nature still remained a mystery to you. You got the impression that, most of the time, when he refused to give you a straight answer, he was trying to keep the truth from himself more than he was trying to keep it from you.

In a lot of ways, the fact that he was allowing you to help him bring everything inside was a testament to just how far he'd come since you'd met him. But even with your help, the sun had long since dipped behind the horizon by the time the last box crossed the threshold. You hadn't even begun the actual work yet and you were already exhausted. You'd planned on getting a start on fixing the loose door at least, but that would have to wait until the next day. You were so tired that your arms nearly gave out as you lifted the last box on top of one of the stacks.

"I'm beat," you said. "I'm gonna take a shower real quick, then I'll probably head straight to bed."

You could only hope that the shower was in good working condition. If not, you would avoid leaving the house for a while as not to offend anyone until you got it sorted out. It was unlikely you would need to for the time being anyhow, and equally unlikely that you would have any time to do so once you got started with unpacking everything.

When you reached the top of the stairs, you noticed that Vergil was standing at the bottom, his eyes locked steadily with your face, following every slight shift you made.

"You can join me if you want." You scoffed. "Don't tell me you're shy all of a sudden."

He didn't move from his place, so you simply shook your head at him and walked off toward the bathroom.

It was times like these that reminded you that Vergil wasn't fully human. Some of the things he did straight up confounded you and you very rarely got an explanation for them. You'd spent a decent amount of time around Dante as well and you had to wonder if he also acted this way from time to time behind closed doors because you'd never seen him do it in your presence. So, the essence of your confusion came down to one single question: was this a demon thing or a Vergil thing? You weren't sure you would ever find a satisfying answer.

You'd done a bit of sorting before your energy had completely left you, so you were confident that your shower implements were within reach. You had to dig through a couple of the boxes you'd brought upstairs, but you eventually managed to gather up everything except the bathmats, which you figured you could do without for the time being.

With everything in hand, you headed into the bathroom and were very relieved when the shower switched on as you'd expected it to. The water even began to warm the longer it ran. So, things were pretty bad as it was right now, but not quite bad enough for cold showers.

As you began to remove your clothes, you suddenly felt a hand touch your skin, just below your armpit. Under normal circumstances, this would have absolutely terrified you. You'd heard no one approach, so now would have been an appropriate time to run back downstairs, screaming that the house was haunted.

But, none of this was necessary. This was not the first time you'd had such an experience. Vergil must have been tired too, you realized, as he was doing that thing again.

You'd come to call it "clinging," as you had no proper name for it. You'd had a number of partners before him and none of them had behaved in quite this way. You had yet to discern a pattern to it, as he hadn't done it often enough since you'd mentioned it for you to do so, but every once in a while, ever since you'd gotten married, he would become drawn to you like a magnet.

Even before you'd mentioned it, there was a certain reluctance behind the action, as though something or someone was compelling him to do it. Deep down, you feared that he was only doing it for your sake, only to keep up the appearance of affection in spite of his somewhat detached nature.

But there had to be more to it than that. It certainly did not seem to you as though it were a half-hearted gesture to appease you.

He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your neck, his breath tickling the space where it met your shoulder.

"Stop it," you said, a smile surfacing on your lips. "I smell like shit right now. Give me a minute, okay?"

He ignored this, keeping his face pressed tightly to your skin.

"Let me wash you," he said.

You turned and gave him a strange look.

"What?" you asked.

"Let me wash you," he repeated.

You were about to tell him that you could manage just fine on your own, but you were going to indulge him in this weird habit of his. You were exhausted, so the help would be much appreciated. He assisted you in removing the rest of your clothes, which were now just your jeans and undergarments, then helped you into the shower before going to remove his own clothes.

In a more standard context, you supposed that there was nothing unusual about this at all. Showering together as a couple should have definitely fit within the more normal activities the two of you engaged in.

It wasn't a romantic gesture, nor was there the slightest hint of sexual motivation on his part as far as you could tell. The only word that came to your mind as you watched him step into the shower behind you was "compulsion."

He took on a focused expression as he reached for the shampoo and began to lather it up in his hands, as though he had some very important task to accomplish in doing so. As he began to run his soapy fingers through the strands of your hair, his touch was soft, but there was a certain degree of urgency to it in spite of this.

But finding an explanation for his behavior was the furthest thing from your mind as you began to relax, your shoulders dropping away from your ears for what felt like the first time in ages. You were tired enough to allow yourself to enjoy this treatment without constant questions swirling through your mind.

"That feels nice," you said.

You allowed your eyes to close and tipped your head back as he continued to work the shampoo into your scalp.

"Are you ever gonna tell me why you do this?" you tried.

He took a moment before responding.

"It's a shameful thing," he finally said.

"Vergil, we're married now. There's no need for secrets between us."

He withdrew his hands from your hair and lifted the shower head from its place.

"Close your eyes," he said.

He wasn't going to budge. Not this time.

He began to rinse the soap from your hair with the same gentle touch as before, carefully, as not to allow any stray soap to get near your eyes.

"You would think less of me if I told you," he said.

"I don't think so," you said.

He finished rinsing your hair and put the shower head back into place.

Next, he grabbed your loofah, which was quite well worn at this point, and drenched it in your body wash . He was very thorough, definitely more thorough than you ever were, leaving no crevice of your body untouched. He held you steady with his left hand, holding it firmly against your hip bone, while using the other to guide the loofah to wherever it needed to go.

The whole process may not have had any sexual pull for him, but it certainly did for you. In spite of how tired you were, your skin began to grow very sensitive beneath his touch.

"You're so much better at this than I am," you said. "I should let you do it more often."

"You should," he said.

There was a bit of a hard edge to his voice as he said this.

"You're gonna let me do you next, right?" you asked.

"If you'd like to."

This response surprised you. You'd fully expected him to say no.

"I would," you said.

When he was through with his thorough cleansing, he once again lifted the shower head and began to rinse you off. His left hand followed the stream of water, guiding the soap bubbles away, lingering nowhere in particular, to your disappointment. You tried a few times to subtly guide his hand toward your breast or your thighs, but he was always quick to pull them away again. A little too quick, you realized, as though he were actively trying to avoid your more enticing areas.

So, he wasn't in the mood tonight. That was perfectly understandable given what the two of you had just been through. You shouldn't have been either and yet, your body continued to betray your exhausted mind as he began to massage the conditioner into your scalp. You released a contented moan, which was barely audible over the sound of the running water.

He reached for the shower head a third time, but you turned around and put your hand up to stop him.

"It has to sit for a while," you said. "You always forget that."

"So it does," he said.

He gave you a stiff smile and it prompted you to study his expression. In sharp contrast to yours, his body seemed to be tense from head-to-toe. It was a rather bizarre sight, seeing him like that, his wet hair falling into his eyes, which burned as they met yours.

You were once again going to try to press for the information inside his head, but you didn't want to upset him further. Or, you assumed he was upset, but it was hard to tell.

"What?" you asked.

You pressed yourself up against him and he took a step back.

"Don't," he said.

"Why not?" You reached up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "What's bothering you?"

He looked down, staring into the drain behind you as the water swirled around it.

"I fear I won't be able to control myself," he finally said. "It will pass."

You wanted to scream at him, "Control yourself with what?" but you held your tongue.

You shook your head at him.

"Turn around," you said.

He did as you asked and you lifted your body wash again.

"I hope you don't mind smelling like flowers for a while," you said.

"It's fine," he said.

He did not say another single word to you as you bathed him, but you did notice that he started to loosen up a bit after a while. Your mind began concocting a bunch of different explanations within the silence: he was suddenly ashamed of his sexual nature; he was having some kind of problem relating to it that he was too ashamed to share with you; he was afraid of hurting you by being too rough. Or, most painfully of all, he no longer found you attractive.

You tried to put that one out of your mind, but you knew that it would linger there until you had a satisfactory explanation.

Once the two of you had finished washing up, you'd taken to setting up the air mattress you'd bought, seeing as a proper bed was one of the pieces of furniture your new home lacked. You then outfitted it in the bedding set from your old home in an attempt to make it as cozy as possible. But it was still uncomfortably firm and yet somehow too wobbly at the same time, you found as you climbed into it, but you had no choice other than to sleep on the floor.

As you settled into it, Vergil once again disappeared into the bathroom and your mind took this as confirmation that he wanted nothing to do with you. And yet, only moments after he finally climbed in beside you, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, once again pressing his face into the junction of your neck and your shoulder.

You pressed yourself closer, wiggling your hips a little as you closed the small gap that was left between you and his grip on you tightened just a bit.

"Good night," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

There it was again, the hard edge in his voice. You started to pull away, still convinced that you'd been doing something that upset him, but this only prompted him to hold you tighter.

"Good night," you whispered back.

You turned back just long enough to kiss him and, even in that time, you could see that his eyes were still burning, as they had been moments before in the shower.


	2. Divisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The superficial differences between you and Vergil become quite apparent as you go about your morning routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I've posted something with chapters that I forgot they each get their own description and notes. I guess it wouldn't make any sense if they didn't.
> 
> Alternate title for this chapter: Adventures in Cooking. I write a lot of cooking scenes, don't I? I love cooking in real life, so I guess it makes sense. Also, wine. That just seems like a very Vergil-y thing to me, so don't think you've seen the last of our fermented friend. If you have any previous exposure to my work, you know that another thing I love is putting a romantic spin on yard work. Seriously, we have a bit of a trend emerging here and I'm not sure how to feel about it.
> 
> Not much else to say about this one other than, enjoy the lighthearted chapters while they last (mwahahaha).

The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur. You briefly remembered Vergil saying something to you after you'd kissed him, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't recall it. You'd been trying to decide what to say in return when you'd finally drifted off to sleep.

Though, you hadn't managed to stay asleep for long. You would generously describe your night as "troubled," plagued by fitful dreams and the general discomfort of being forced to use the air mattress. One dream that you could recall featured you wandering throughout the house, each of its rooms being magically repaired as soon as you stepped into them. You awoke several times in the midst of this, your brain surprised and disappointed each time to find that your bedroom was still in a state of disrepair.

But what had finally managed to awaken you for good was a distinctive pain in the right side of your back, right above the base of your spine. This was only your first night spent on the cursed air mattress and it was already beginning to take its toll on you.

You laid flat on your back and raised your arms above your head, stretching this way and that in an attempt to work out the kink to no avail. You would likely be stuck with it for at least the remainder of the day, which did not bode well for your renovation plans.

The second thing you noticed, apart from the amount of pain that you were in, was that the space beside you was now empty. Vergil was already awake, and likely had been for quite some time. That was one of the biggest divides between the two of you: he was a morning person while you very much were not.

And the next thing that you became aware of was the smell of food and coffee that was emanating from downstairs. He was cooking you breakfast, most likely, which served to relieve your fears that the stove was out of commission.

You had accepted that you would have to wear your clothes from the previous day when you noticed that the small bag you'd packed had been brought upstairs, courtesy of Vergil, no doubt.

You fished out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, then headed downstairs.

Vergil didn't even turn to look at you as you made your way into the kitchen.

"Good afternoon," he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice even if you couldn't see his face. "Did you sleep well?"

"What time is it?" you asked.

"It's nearly one pm," he replied.

You sighed. You had planned to get started much earlier than this.

You stepped up to the stove to take a peek at what he was making and found two pans upon it: one filled with bacon, which he was currently tending to, and the other with two eggs.

"It's a little late for breakfast, isn't it?" you asked.

"I had a feeling you'd wake up around this time," he said. "It felt appropriate."

You got the distinct feeling he was making fun of you, but you did appreciate the forthcoming meal. Your stomach rumbled a few times to remind you that you'd forgotten to fill it before you went to sleep. In order to actually serve the food, however, you would have to dig your dishes out of their respective boxes. It was inevitable that you would have to do it anyway, so you figured that now was as good of a time as any.

Luckily, you'd had the foresight to mark most of the boxes, so locating the right ones would be easy. Upon opening the one marked, "kitchen essentials," in bright red marker, you were met with a rather disheartening sight.

"Damn," you said. "Some of the plates got broken."

"I can pick up some more when I go out later," said Vergil.

"You're going out? Where?"

"I'm going to pick up a few things I think we'll need after examining the house more closely."

So, he'd already walked the house while you had merely been dreaming about it. And thus, you were reminded of another divide that had been obvious from the start: he was quite a bit more organized than you were.

"Well, while you do that, I think I'm going to try to repair that door before the snow hits." You motioned toward the loose door that led to the backyard. "Did you bring the toolbox inside?"

"What toolbox?" he asked.

"Nevermind, I'll get it."

You always had a toolbox in the trunk of your car and, after grabbing the plates that weren't broken and setting them on the counter, you headed toward the front door to fetch it.

"After you've eaten," Vergil said, and you stopped.

He was right. It had been far too long since you'd done it and it would be unwise to put it off any longer.

"Fine," you said.

"You must work on taking better care of yourself," he said.

"I'm trying, okay?"

He chuckled.

You returned to the box you had been rummaging through and retrieved two cups, both of which seemed to be intact to your relief, then folded it closed as a signal that you truly were going to take a moment to relax in spite of the fact that you felt compelled to start shoving things into cabinets already. You kept having to remind yourself that there was no need to rush. There would be plenty of time to get everything sorted, an infinite amount of time, given that you planned to stay in the house for the foreseeable future.

You unwrapped two plates from their newspaper covering and set them onto the table, then did the same for the cups and went to get yourself a glass of water.

"I made coffee," said Vergil.

"But there's no milk," you said.

"So?"

"So, black coffee is fucking nasty and not meant for human consumption."

He smiled.

"Good thing I'm not human, then," he said. "Bring the plates."

You did as he asked, pouting about the fact that you'd walked into such an obvious trap the whole way through. And in this discussion you'd just had was a third, much less consequential divide: he preferred black coffee and you preferred yours with a heavy handed portion of milk and sugar.

He liked a great many things with robust flavor that you simply could not understand: black coffee; dark chocolate; dry red wine with a very hefty price tag. You weren't nearly as picky as he was, a fact he was more than ready to dispute if given the opportunity, but you did fancy yourself as having the judgement required to determine what was fit for consumption and what was not.

You set the plates on the counter and waited for him to transfer the finished food onto them before bringing them back to the table.

"Not sure what good the table is without chairs," he said.

You shrugged.

"We'll make due," you said.

It was then that you'd realized that you'd neglected to grab utensils from the box along with the rest of the dishes. So, it wasn't to be the most dignified breakfast you'd ever had, but it would be better than nothing.

You hoisted yourself up onto the dining table and took a seat, then grabbed a piece of the bacon and shoved it into your mouth. It was cooked to perfection, but you had already expected that it would be.

Vergil grabbed the empty cup from beside you and paused to give you a sideways glance before going to fill it with the coffee he'd made.

"It's not my fault your brother didn't bother to get us full sets of furniture," you said in response to his unspoken criticism. "So, where are you going today?"

"To the hardware store and then to the grocery store," he replied.

He stood just beside you and leaned his back against the edge of the table.

"I'm probably gonna get started out in the garden after I get the door fixed," you said.

Without really taking the time to consider your actions, you tore a piece from your egg, affixed it to another slice of bacon, and ate the entire thing in a single bite. You only became aware that this was a potentially very odd thing to do when you noticed that Vergil had resumed his previous judgmental glance.

"What?" you asked, a bit of egg flying free from your full mouth as you did.

"I didn't say anything," he said.

You swallowed hard.

"You're gonna judge me for the way I eat when you're over there drinking black coffee like it's normal?"

"While I'm drinking a smooth dark roast and you are eating your breakfast like an uncivilized beast," he corrected.

He smiled and, before you had time to realize what was happening, he took a big sip of his coffee, then promptly kissed you. You pulled away and turned your head to the side, coughing and sputtering as the taste of the drink continued to linger on your lips.

"Ew!" you exclaimed.

He finished off the remainder of his coffee and placed the glass back onto the table in an exaggerated gesture.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he said.

* * *

Fixing the door had proven itself to be a more substantial struggle than you'd been expecting, but you had to see it through, otherwise it was going to continue to bother you until it was done. The snow was due to start any day now and you weren't about to awaken to a ski hill in the middle of your kitchen.

And yet, on that particular day, the weather was unseasonably warm, which made it the perfect time to begin your work out in the yard. You had begun to formulate a grand plan for the space as soon as you'd stepped out into it, but you would not be able to see any of it through until you took care of the basics, the first of which was to clear away the dead branches and weeds that had gathered. The pain in your back had subsided quite some time ago, at least, so the task would be less grueling than it otherwise would have been had the pain persisted.

You retrieved the winter gloves from within your jacket pocket, along with a large garbage bag, and got to work.

Unfortunately, the gloves did not provide nearly as much protection from the weeds as you'd hoped. They were the large and spiky variety, burgeoning from just about every corner of the yard and so, you had to grab them just right between the thick, rubber palms of your gloves in order to prevent them from poking through. You were forced to alternate between pulling the weeds and gathering the sticks both to give your hands a rest from the constant poking and to prevent losing your mind from the monotony of it all. The bag had begun to fill much faster than you'd expected, which was strangely satisfying, until you became aware of how much there was still left to do in spite of your progress.

It wasn't until you reached the large tree that sat near the edge of the fence that you finally stopped to take a rest. You took a seat in the grass, though not before making sure to check it for any unwanted visitors, and breathed out an exhausted sigh. You removed your gloves and used the back of your hand to wipe the sweat from your forehead, the presence of which surprised you. You'd expected that the weather may have grown too cold for you to continue working as the day dragged on, but it did not appear that this would be the case. And so, you would take advantage of the ideal conditions to get as much done as you could, as soon as you were through resting.

It was the sound of the newly repaired door opening that finally prompted you to stand up again. Vergil was home already. You weren't aware of exactly how much time had passed, but you felt as though he had been gone for a pretty short while.

"You fixed the door," he said, and he appeared genuinely impressed.

"Yup," you said. "It took a little longer than I was expecting, but I eventually managed to figure it out. You're back already?"

"It's been three hours," he said.

So, it had been quite a bit longer than you'd thought.

"I see you've made a good start out here."

"I'm about halfway done now, I'd say," you said.

"I don't suppose I could pull you away from your weeding for a bit."

You shrugged and walked toward him.

"For what?" you asked.

"I have a surprise for you."

Knowing him, this could have meant just about anything, from a single rose to a new couch, which he'd already fully assembled before making his presence known. You tried to meter your expectations as you followed him back into the house.

He led you to the kitchen, where he paused in front of a small, thin paper bag, and lifted something from it. It was a bottle of wine, its deep red color evident through the glass, sporting a label that looked rather plain to your untrained eye.

"I figured you might enjoy a sweeter red blend," he said.

"We'll see," you said.

You were about to begin digging through the boxes again until he produced two wine glasses from another bag nearby.

"You thought of everything, didn't you?"

He smiled.

"I did," he said. He screwed off the top and poured each of you a glass, then passed one of them to you. "To our new home."

He clinked his glass together with yours and took a sip.

"How is it?" you asked.

"Not exactly to my taste," he replied.

You scoffed and took a sip of your own. You had to admit, in spite of your "aversion to the finer things in life," as he would put it, that you didn't absolutely hate it, as you did a great number of the drinks he'd made you try. He had chosen well for you, this time.

"Well?"

You smirked at him.

"It's good," you said.

"I'm sure I'll get you to come around on wine eventually."

"You keep saying that."

He took another sip of his wine, then turned his attention back to the rest of the bags. It seemed that he'd taken it upon himself to pick up a few groceries because, apparently, the bare bones selections that you'd made weren't quite good enough for him.

As he continued to unpack everything he'd bought, you noticed that he was carefully separating everything into two categories, one which he put into its proper place in the fridge and one which he left in an increasingly large pile on the counter. So, your surprise did not begin and end with the wine, it would seem.

"What's all this?" you asked.

"I figured I would pick up a few things we were lacking," he said. "It would have been hard to put together a proper meal from what we had available."

"Look, I didn't have much time, so cut me a break, okay?"

You smiled at him and he smiled back as he began to unpack the ingredients he'd gathered.

"What sort of proper meal are you making, then?" you asked.

"Steak and potatoes," he replied. "Nothing fancy. You're welcome to help, if you'd like."

This was his way of indirectly asking for your help, always phrasing it in a non-committal way, giving you the chance to back out in case you found the notion of assisting him with simple tasks to be a major inconvenience.

Instead of playing into this habit of his, this time at least, you simply returned to the "kitchen essentials" box to search for everything you would need to prepare dinner. You went with a basic assortment of items: a few knives, a cutting board, a spatula, a spoon, and a few pans. You figured that you wouldn't need much more than this, aside from the plates and utensils you would need for serving, which you also grabbed once your hands were free.

Once you'd gathered everything you needed, you got to work with chopping the vegetables he'd laid out without a single word. If you'd asked him how you could help, you were sure he would have relegated you to the easy tasks: switching on the stove and the oven, perhaps. You were his partner after all, and part of the duty of one's partner was to assist in any way that they could, no matter how big or small. You were going to continue working at it until you'd managed to drill this fact into his impossibly thick skull.  
He didn't say anything or try to stop you, so you took this as a sign that he was grateful.

You could see what his vision was here. The assortment of vegetables he'd chosen arranged themselves nicely into a salad, which you transferred to a large bowl before beginning on the potatoes. Roast potatoes were easy as well. You'd made them a number of times yourself and preheated the oven to the correct temperature before you'd resumed your chopping.

It was hard for you to not hold the impression that he believed you to be incapable, or at least, less capable than himself. In your experience, he held this opinion of most people and you realized that it may be dishonest of you to see yourself as an exception. Another possibility had occurred to you from time to time while ruminating on this: that he viewed asking for help as a sign that he himself was incapable.

You'd meant to discuss this matter with him for quite some time, and yet, you never knew quite how to bring it up. "Do you have deep seated issues that make it difficult for you to ask for my help cleaning the bathroom?" was not exactly a question that made for pleasant dinner conversation. But, you supposed, there was no way to put a positive spin on a topic like this and it would have to be brought up sooner or later regardless.

But now was not the time. Such matters could definitely wait until after dinner.

You returned your attention instead back to your cooking, placing the potatoes onto the small roaster pan you'd grabbed, then seasoning them, and setting them aside while you waited for the oven to finish heating up.

Now that you were through with your frenzied chopping, it occurred to you that the wine in Vergil's glass was very nearly gone, as though he had been chugging it continuously while you were otherwise occupied. This was rather uncharacteristic of him. In fact, the only other time you could remember having seen him do it was at the restaurant he had taken you to right before he proposed.

So, your surprise extended even further than a drink and a meal. Or at least, that's what you took this to mean, though it occurred to you that it was possible he was rushing through this particular glass of wine because he wasn't fond of the taste.

You were about to mix up a dressing for the salad when you felt Vergil's arms wrap around your waist, his lips pressing against your cheek and your neck, and then your shoulder as he reached up one of his hands and pulled the collar of your t-shirt aside.

"Why, hello there," you said.

You had intended to sound alluring, but had missed the mark quite a bit.

"You're in my way," he said, and he reached beneath your arms to grab the package of steak.

"You could have just asked me to hand them to you," you said.

As you turned back to speak, he took the opportunity to kiss you before releasing you and returning to the stove to begin preparing the meat he'd grabbed.

After what you'd experienced last night, you were a bit reluctant to do it, but you decided to reciprocate his affectionate gesture, coming up behind him and embracing him. To your relief, he made no move to pull away.

And so, he was back to normal. Or at least, as normal as he got. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek before resuming your previous task.

Suddenly, there was a distinct aura of tension between the two of you, though quite different than the one that had previously been there when you were questioning his feelings for you. It was that of smoldering embers, burning just beneath the surface, threatening to burst into a raging fire with the slightest provocation.

You had long since lost focus on your cooking. You threw together a haphazard combination for the salad dressing, a mix of varying amounts of lemon juice, olive oil, and spices, but your mind was far removed from the task. Your eyes were continuously drawn back toward Vergil as he moved throughout the kitchen so effortlessly. You were a skilled cook, there was no doubt about that, but he was nothing less than exceptional. There was a level of intuition to everything he did, forgoing timers and measuring spoons in favor of his own knowledge. It never ceased to amaze you how he seemed to know exactly when things were done cooking by the way they looked alone.

It wasn't until the oven beeped, signaling to you that it was finished heating, that you realized you'd been staring for quite some time. As far as you could tell, he had been too focused to notice.

You took up the tray of potatoes and bumped his hip with yours in an attempt to get him to move aside so you could access the oven door. To your surprise, without missing a beat, he bumped you back, nearly causing you to drop the tray as he knocked you off balance.

"Excuse me," you said.

You tried your best to play at sounding offended.

"You could have just asked me to move aside," he said, and he turned to you with a smug grin on his face.

You gave him a playful slap on the arm, then placed the potatoes into the oven and set the timer on the stove. He may not have needed one, but you still did.

With everything handled, you returned to your glass of wine, which you had been occasionally sipping on since you'd started, as you waited for Vergil to finish the steaks. And it didn't take him long to do so. According to him, a perfectly done steak only needed a few minutes on each side, but every time you tried to copy his methods, it always ended up raw around the outside edges no matter what you did.

He turned off the stove and transferred one steak to each of the plates you'd grabbed, then turned toward you and took your wine glass gingerly between his fingers before placing it on the counter behind you.

"You put the potatoes in a bit late," he said.

"Yeah," you said. "I got a little distracted."

You gave an exaggerated pout. Your distracted state was his fault, after all.

"That means we have a bit of extra time to kill," he said.

He grabbed hold of your left wrist and, gently, pushed you back against the wall just beside the counter.

"Oh, I see," you said.

He gave you a small smile, then pressed his lips against yours. This was the most affection he'd shown you in quite awhile and you intended to take full advantage of it, at least until it was time to tend to your food.

You drew your free hand up his back, brushing your fingers against the crook of his neck before planting them firmly in his hair. The extent to which your body responded to his touch never failed to surprise you and you breathed a contented sigh as the fire within you flared up as you pressed your body against his, as you'd been dying to do since the previous evening.

He pulled away and you partially expected him to tell you to stop again, but instead, he simply smiled.

"So, were you tired yesterday, or what?" you asked.

It was then that he took a step back from you, his eyes falling to your feet for just a second.

"You truly want to know why I was acting so strangely?" he asked.

Your eyes widened and you stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. Was he actually serious?

"Yes, I do!" you exclaimed.

He nodded, then walked back toward the counter and poured himself a second glass of wine.

"Then, let me tell you," he said.


	3. Process

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil finally confesses to you why he's been acting so strangely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger in the last chapter, folks. You know I had to do it to ya. But! Fear not, the resolution is here. And so, the main premise emerges. If you managed to guess it, you get the gold star for the week. At the time of posting this, there are only 3 more days until the Vergil dlc comes out for DMC 5, so hopefully this will tide all of us over until then. I for one cannot wait anymore ;u;
> 
> This is kind of a more refined version of the dinner scene from Impressions and Honesty, I realized while I was editing this, so apologies in advance for any similarities if you've read both. What do you mean, nobody noticed this and I'm just too insecure for my own good?
> 
> (Also, if you read this far, consider this last line your official teaser for something else I've started working on recently. It's a little different than my other stuff, so I'm excited to see what everyone thinks!)

At last, he was finally going to budge. You weren't sure if it was due to your incessant nagging or the wine he'd drunk, or perhaps a combination of both. Either way, this signaled that another bit of progress had been made. He was opening up to you in a truly significant way and you would do everything in your power to make sure you didn't frighten him away from doing so.

He lifted his freshly filled glass of wine and headed toward the single loveseat which sat directly in the middle of the living room. You mirrored his path exactly, then took the empty seat beside him and turned toward him with an expectant look on your face.

"Well?" you prompted.

"I would forgive you for having second thoughts about our relationship after receiving this information," he said. 

"Just tell me," you said. "I promise I'm not gonna judge you, no matter what it is." 

He sighed and didn't even turn to look at you as he continued speaking. 

"Like I said, it's a shameful thing," he went on.

"Okay," you said. "And, what does that mean?"

You'd heard him describe his actions toward you as "shameful" quite a few times and could never find a common thread between them.

"As you're probably well aware, I am not entirely human," he said.

He took a sip of his wine and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well, yes," you said. "I mean, you are related to Dante, so it made sense to assume that you were half devil as well."

He finally turned to look at you, and you could have sworn that you saw just a hint of amusement in his expression.

"Your assumptions were accurate," he said. He turned away again. "That being said, there are many aspects of my nature that I myself don't fully understand."

"That makes two of us."

He sighed again and swirled his wine around a bit within the confines of its glass.

"All I know is, it began shortly after we got married, these feelings I have."

So, your suspicions had been correct, even if you still couldn't precisely pinpoint their source. 

"It's a devil thing, I think, and a rather irrational one," he continued.

"What's a devil thing?" you asked.

You were beginning to get a rather unfortunate image in your head in the midst of all of his stalling, involving vague flashes of him wishing to harm you in some way. Was that why he was so distant? That couldn't be it, surely.

"Don't look so terrified," he said. You must have made an odd face in response to your thoughts and you made an active attempt to soften your expression. "It's most likely not what you think."

"Well, between the two of us, you're the only one who can clear that up for me."

You winced. Was that too harsh? He was silent for a bit and you feared that you'd scared him into it. But, no. He opened his mouth to speak again in spite of your brief moment of bluntness.

"It's some kind of instinct," he said. "I believe the catalyst was when you finally took my name. From that moment forward, I've felt this irresistible urge to possess you, if that makes sense."

"What, like, Exorcist-style?"

You couldn't resist the obvious joke and were relieved to see a smile playing at his lips after you'd spoken.

"No, not 'Exorcist-style'," he said. "It's more that I need to claim you as mine in any way that I possibly can."

"So, is that why you hover around me sometimes?"

"Yes."

"And, you're ashamed of it, so that's why you stopped after I mentioned it?"

"Yes. Or at least, I made an attempt to stop and found it all but impossible to do so, which is why I'm telling you all this now. For a while, I thought that perhaps, I could will it away."

"You don't need to be ashamed of being a little clingy sometimes."

He shook his head.

"Let me finish," he said. "Sometimes, this desire for possession manifests as an impulse to carry on my legacy with you, as it were."

Your breath caught in your throat. You had never been sure of how this conversation would play out, but you definitely hadn't imagined it like this.

"You mean, you want to have a child with me?" you asked.

You had to make sure that you were interpreting him correctly.

"It's not something that I want," he said. "It's something that I need. It consumes my mind and I'm afraid that, if I allow myself the slightest indulgence, I won't be able to control myself. So, to answer your original question, that is why I rejected you yesterday."

"Won't be able to control yourself from what, impregnating me, or something?"

He turned to you and slowly nodded.

"You should give yourself a little more credit than that," you said. "You're not an animal."

"Like I said," he said. "This is not something I really have a handle on. Perhaps I'll get there one day, but until then, I'd like to exercise caution."

You leaned back and began to take in everything he'd said. Once you'd gotten over the initial strangeness of it all, it began to seem a little silly.

"That's it?" you asked. "You allowed me to torment you all this time instead of just telling me what was really happening? I honestly thought it was something I was doing."

"No," he said. "It was entirely on me."

"So, why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted to attempt to deal with it first."

You abruptly stood up from the couch, then situated yourself in his lap and took his face in your hands.

"Vergil, this is a part of you," you said. "It's not something you should feel like you have to 'deal with.'"

"But-"

You pressed your finger to his lips.

"No buts," you said.

"Don't you think it's odd?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little bit," you replied. "But, is that a bad thing? We're all a little odd, aren't we? I mean, you watched me shove a makeshift bacon egg sandwich into my face this morning, didn't you?"

He smiled.

"I did," he said.

"And you didn't leave me over that, right?"

"That I did not. But, this is a little more important than the way I eat my bacon."

"Maybe it is. But that doesn't make it any less acceptable."

To your surprise, he actually began to blush a bit at this.

"It's something I'll be thinking about," you continued. "If we did ever want to have a child of our own, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take it up with Nero before making a decision." 

He looked at you as though what you'd said had confused him.

"You're really considering this," he said. 

"Well, yeah. This is something that has crossed my mind before. Do you  _ want  _ to have kids? If you don't, we can talk about that." 

His confusion intensified a bit. 

"It's something that has crossed my mind before as well," he said. "I'm just not sure how to separate that from everything I've just told you." 

"Why would you have to do that?" 

"Because, it's-" 

"What, weird? Unnatural? I think you've managed to build this up in your head to be a little more significant than it actually is." 

"Perhaps," he said.

"You really don't have to keep stuff like this from me. And you shouldn't. We're partners. It kind of comes with the territory that we try to work things like this through together."

He nodded, but didn't say anything further.

"Anyway," you said. "I'm gonna check on the potatoes." You stood up, then leaned down and kissed him. "Thank you for telling me all that."

Although the conversation you'd just had felt as though it had dragged on for quite some time, both due to its subject matter and Vergil's stalling, the potatoes still had a few more minutes remaining.

"Not quite ready," you mumbled to yourself.

You poured yourself a second glass of wine and stared into it as your thoughts returned to their previous subject. What would it be like to actually have children of your own? It occurred to you that you'd never properly considered it until now.

You had Nero, of course, and you were incredibly grateful for him. But he was already a fully grown adult, and so the process of carrying and raising a child was still a bit of a mystery to you, in spite of the fact that you were, for all intents and purposes, a parent now, and had been for quite some time.

Everyone you knew who had their own children had let you know in no uncertain terms that the entire process of pregnancy and birth was a rather unpleasant ordeal and yet, the more you thought about it, the more curious you became. Practically speaking, there was nothing that was stopping you from taking that leap anymore, aside from the state of your house, and you found this realization to be intriguing and terrifying at the same time.

You realized that, for the first time in your life, you could actually make something like this work.

Vergil came up behind you and brushed his hand against your arm.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," you replied. "I'm just thinking."

You turned around and wrapped your arms around him, smiling as you did.

"Are you upset?" he asked.

You shook your head.

"There's just a lot to consider," you said. "I mean, I don't know about you, but I think we could make this work."

"Starting a family, you mean?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"I'm not so sure."

His eyes fell.

"Remember what I told you," you said. "You need to give yourself more credit. Have a little faith in yourself. I don't think you're as hopeless as you think you are."

He smiled.

"That's very generous of you," he said.

Shortly after he'd said this, the timer on the stove finally beeped, signaling that the potatoes were ready.

"Come on, let's eat," you said. "We'll talk more about this later."

You retrieved the potatoes from the oven and you each took a portion of the food you'd made, then returned to the loveseat.

He was quiet for a moment, staring off at nothing in particular, as you had been doing, then said, "I must apologize for being dishonest with you. I know that my vagueness can't have been easy on you."

You laughed.

"I admit, it hasn't been easy," you said. "I can't read your mind, after all."

"I know. I will try my best to refrain from such behavior in the future."

"And that's all I can ask of you, is that you try." You lifted your hand and rubbed his back. "And you are trying, and I appreciate that."

As soon as these words left your mouth, a new consideration entered your mind. Perhaps he truly wasn't ready for such a major undertaking, or at least, he might not be for quite some time. Your eyes scanned aimlessly over his form as you mulled this over. He had made a great deal of progress, but you had to admit, he still had quite a few things he needed to work on, his openness being one of them.

Much like with the state of the house, however, it occurred to you that you had plenty of time to work on this. Such an important decision was not something that could be, or even should be, decided in one night, so you would allow him all of the time he needed.

This was to be a process, one that you were more than ready to take on, as long as he was willing to work with you. With all of this worked out in your mind, you finally gave yourself the freedom to relax.

Once you had finished with your dinner, the two of you headed back upstairs and it was then that you remembered what a state of disarray your bedroom was in. You briefly considered whether or not the loveseat would be more comfortable than the air mattress, but decided that you were too tired to turn around and walk back down the stairs, especially with a pile of pillows and blankets in your hand.

While the furniture may not have been, the atmosphere was certainly in a more comfortable state than it had been the last time you'd been up here. In fact, in spite of its less than ideal state, you found the room to be a bit cozy now instead of uninviting, like a temporary fortress the two of you had set up for yourselves, a private sanctuary away from the rest of the world.

And you hoped, in due time, that the rest of the house would take on a similar quality.

You got ready for bed as best you could with the limited items you had available, then climbed beneath the blanket and tried your best to get comfortable. Though your attitude toward it may have changed, the material state of the air mattress had not.

But, you found that this mattered significantly less as Vergil climbed in beside you. His presence alone made it more comfortable than the loveseat ever could be, regardless of how plush the cushions were.

You turned over onto your side and smiled.

"So, what's on the agenda tomorrow?" you asked.

"Everything has been handled," he said. "We should be able to get started on things here."

"Good. I'm so sick of running around all over the place."

"We should be able to begin settling in here, assuming I haven't forgotten anything." He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in toward him. "You're truly not upset with me?"

"No," you replied. "Not even a little bit. In fact, I'm really proud of you. I'm sure it took a lot for you to open up to me like that."

He took a moment to respond.

"Thank you," he said, and he pulled you in just a little tighter.

This was how things were supposed to be; this was the way you had always imagined your life together before you'd gotten married. In spite of all of the difficulties the two of you had had over the course of your time together, you never failed to find comfort in him. No matter how uncertain things seemed, either within your relationship or on a wider scale, you could be assured that they would always return to a comfortable state of normality eventually. It was as though, as long as you had him by your side, you always had a focal point that you could return to, and this was one of the signs that made you realize that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You had a firm sense of stability now and, as far as you could see, this could only continue to grow as time went on.

It was here, wrapped tightly in his arms, with thoughts of the new direction that your future could take, that you could be assured that your sleep would be a lot more restful tonight.


	4. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get the chance to sit down and discuss your future plans with Nero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a brief hiatus for the holidays, but fear not. I have returned with more ridiculously cheesy fluff for everyone to enjoy. I hope y'all had some good holidays, or at least, as good as they can be, given the circumstances.
> 
> Alternate title for this one: Vergil and Co. go to the Pottery Barn.
> 
> This one got so far away from me I don't even know, man. The concept of awkward family shopping just came to me one day and I had to roll with it. Remember at the beginning when I was like, "this is very angsty and sad read at your own risk"? Well, these chapters are making a mockery of me, and I don't much appreciate it, I must say. I was briefly worried about laying it on too thick, but then I remembered the entire fandom eats this shit up, myself included.
> 
> Also, I must take a moment to say thank you for the feedback I have received thus far. I'm glad you guys are enjoying the series because it has been one of my favorites to write! Couldn't do this without all of your lovely comments and such. Anyway, onto Vergil's adventures at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
> 
> (Side note, I finally get to use the Dadgil tag and this is one of my proudest moments ;u;)

The time had finally come for you to begin unpacking everything so that you wouldn't have to keep returning to the piles of boxes every time you needed something. Doing it had always been in the back of your mind, nagging at you, but you supposed it was only fair that you hadn't gotten a proper start on it yet given that quite a few unexpected things had come up since you'd arrived.

The two of you decided that it would be faster to split up, with you beginning downstairs and Vergil beginning upstairs, then meeting in the middle if either of you finished before the other.

The boxes full of dishes proved to be the most difficult to deal with given that a great number of them were broken in spite of the fact that you'd done your best to pack them as carefully as possible and even wrote "fragile" on the outside in large letters. Perhaps another trip to the store would be in order after all. As you were in the middle of separating out the plates that were still intact, your phone rang from within your pocket. You went to answer it without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?" you said.

"Hi, mom."

Your heart swelled when you heard Nero's voice on the other end of the phone. It had been awhile since the two of you had gotten a proper chance to talk.

"Oh, hi!" you said. You stood from your previous position seated in front of the boxes you had been unpacking. "Long time, no talk. What have you been up to over there?"

"Not much," he replied. "I was actually calling to see if you needed any help with the house."

You chuckled.

"We need all the help we can get," you said.

"It's that bad, huh?"

"Suffice it to say, your uncle either has a very twisted sense of humor or a complete lack of taste."

You heard him laugh and the sound of it made you smile.

"I would really appreciate the help," you continued. "We just got started unpacking and it's proving to be a little more difficult than I was expecting."

"Okay, I'll be right over," he said. "See ya."

"Prepare yourself," you said. "It's probably worse than you think it is."

"Will do. Love you, mom."

"Love you, too."

With that, he hung up the phone and you placed it back into your pocket, then stared down at the boxes on the floor with growing disapproval. It was beginning to feel as though your things had been steadily multiplying since you'd arrived, but you knew that this couldn't possibly be the case. You were sure that Nero's help would prove most valuable.

"Vergil?" you called up the stairs, and he appeared at the top moments later.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied, "I just wanted to let you know that Nero is going to be stopping by in a little bit to help us unpack."

"Oh."

His expression shifted very subtly to one of surprise as you said this.

"And, while I'm still thinking about it, most of our dishes got broken, so we'll probably have to head back to the store sooner rather than later."

"Okay," he said. "I'll make sure to do that when I get a chance."

"Thank you."

He then disappeared back into whatever room he was currently working on and you finally allowed the smile you'd been trying so hard to repress to come to the surface. The shift in his demeanor when you mentioned Nero had not escaped your notice.

Even after all of this time, Vergil was still so awkward when it came to his own son. You had tried your best to get the two of them to interact as much as possible, but it was as though, whenever they got together, neither of them knew what to do with themselves, especially when you left them alone. More often than not, they sank into an uncomfortable silence as soon as you left the room or resorted to the type of small talk more frequently associated with perfect strangers.

But, you weren't going to give up. This was just another one of those things that you would need to help Vergil work on.

You had just placed the last broken dish into the box you'd laid aside for them when you heard a knock at the door.

"Coming!" you called.

It took you a second to lift yourself back off the floor and it was then that you realized that you had been sitting in the same position for entirely too long, as evidenced by the stiff ache in your hip as you stood.

You shook it out a few times, trying to force it to function again, then went to open the door.

"Hi!" You wrapped Nero in a tight hug. "Come in! You'll have to watch your step cause there might be some broken glass on the floor."

He stepped inside and you closed the door behind him.

"Just so you know," he said. "I think your doorbell is broken."

You sighed.

"Of course it is," you said with a groan. "Because if you tried to ring it, I didn't hear it."

"I did," he said.

"Well, I'll add that to the list of things we need to get looked at."

Nero paused in the middle of the room and took a moment to inspect his surroundings.

"Damn, you weren't kidding," he said. "This place is a complete dump. No offense, of course."

You laughed.

"None taken," you said. "That's exactly what I thought when I got here."

"So, where's dad?" he asked. "I thought he would be helping you out."

"He is," you said. "He's upstairs. He said it would be faster if we split up."

Nero gave you an uncertain look.

"You're sure he's not avoiding me?" he asked.

"No," you said. "I'm sure he'll be down in a bit."

Or at least, you hoped he would be without your intervention.

"Anyway," you continued. "I'm gonna keep going with the kitchen stuff if you want to get started on one of the other rooms."

"You're always more than welcome to stay with us until this place is actually liveable, you know," Nero said.

You took a moment to consider this.

"It's not really all that bad," you said. "It  _ is _ nice finally having our own space after living in the apartment complex for so long."

"Yeah, I hear you there." He walked into the area with the dining table, then lifted one of the boxes from it and began to sort through it. "Well, the offer is always open if you change your mind. I'm sure Kyrie would be more than happy to have you."

You smiled at the mention of her name. It had been quite a while since you had seen her, too, and you would need to amend this as soon as you possibly could.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said.

There were just so many people and things to keep track of these days that, without really meaning for them to, some of them had fallen by the wayside for a bit longer than you'd originally intended due to your habit of continuously making plans or promises to yourself and others that you found yourself unable to uphold when the time came.

You made yourself another such promise to make your best effort to change this, then returned your focus to the next box, this one simply marked, "miscellaneous," offering no real clues whatsoever to its possible contents.

You had become so focused on sorting through the various random objects inside the box that you'd barely even realized that over an hour had passed and Vergil still hadn't come downstairs yet. You briefly considered that he too may have gotten too focused on his work to notice the passing of time, but somehow, you knew that this wasn't the case. You excused yourself, then made your way up the stairs to find out what was keeping him.

When you reached the top step, you immediately noticed him, still in the bedroom where you'd left him last, pacing back and forth in front of the air mattress, having made very little visual progress at all.

You knocked lightly on the open door and he stopped.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing much," you said as you stepped into the room. "I just figured you would have come downstairs by now."

"I've been busy," he said.

You glanced around the room and smiled in spite of your best efforts not to. As far as you could tell, the contents of the two open boxes that sat atop your comforter had remained largely untouched in spite of all the time he'd had to begin working on them.

"Have you?" you said. You stepped a bit closer and placed your arms around his waist. "Well, Nero thinks you've been avoiding him."

"Nonsense," he said.

You tugged him gently in the direction of the door.

"Well, come say hi, then," you said. "I'm sure you can spare five minutes."

"I will once I've finished with this room."

You shook your head.

"Come on," you said, and you tugged a little harder this time. "We have to get to the store anyway before it closes."

You hadn't originally intended on going today, but if that was the only opportunity you would have to get them to interact, you were going to take it.

He looked at you for a moment, then said, "Alright. I'll be down in just a moment."

You leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed him.

"Thank you," you said. "We'll be waiting." You stepped back out onto the landing, then peered around the door and said, "No rush, or anything."

He gave you a scowl and you giggled as you headed back down the stairs.

"We're gonna head out to the store in just a little bit," you told Nero. "Would you like to come?"

"Sure," he said, and you could detect just the slightest bit of apprehension in his voice as well.

This was going to be difficult, but you were going to make it happen, no matter what it took.

It was still unseasonably warm outside, but not quite as much as it had been the previous day, so you went to the coat closet to retrieve your jacket, which was the only thing occupying it at present. Just as you were pulling on your gloves, you finally heard Vergil's footsteps as he made his way down the stairs.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah," you replied. "We don't have much time, so we'll have to make it fast."

As the three of you made your way toward the door, he finally said, "hello, Nero." Upon hearing this, you felt your shoulders relax in spite of the fact that you hadn't been previously aware of the tension you'd been holding there.

"Hey," Nero replied.

"There should be a department store up the street that has what we need," you said.

"I know which one you mean," said Nero. "I'll drive."

"Are you sure?" Vergil asked.

"What, don't you trust me?"

You had to try very hard to stifle the laugh that was rising in your throat.

"Of course I trust you," Vergil said. "It's just that, I'm not sure that ancient car of yours can handle the roads in the event that they become icy after nightfall."

"It's not  _ that _ old," Nero shot back.

"What he's trying to say is, be careful," you cut in.

Vergil turned away, staring off in the direction of the back garden at nothing in particular.

"Oh, right," Nero said. "I'll be careful. I promise."

You tugged on Vergil's arm to get his attention and gave him a reassuring smile. It was clear that he was making his best effort and you had to let him know that you appreciated it.

The store you were thinking of was located in a small shopping center just down the street from your new home, but you still weren't sure exactly where it was, so you had been relieved when Nero had offered to take you right to it. He had been living in the general area much longer than you had and because of this, had much more comprehensive knowledge of it than you did.

Vergil, however, did not seem to share your feelings of relief as you noticed his posture immediately stiffen as Nero pulled out onto the road.

You found it a bit amusing just how concerned Vergil was for Nero's safety, even if he had a bit of a difficult time expressing it, and you suddenly found yourself wondering: if he was this overly protective over his fully grown son driving less than three miles down the street to the store, how much more seriously would he take the care and safety of a younger child? You once again had to keep yourself from laughing as an image of him frantically chasing after a smaller version of himself popped into your mind.

He must have noticed this as he turned toward you and asked, "what is it?"

"I'm just thinking," you replied.

He smirked at you.

"About what?" he asked.

"I'll tell you later," you said.

His expression switched from amused to intrigued, but he simply turned back toward the window and didn't make any attempt to press the issue further.

You supposed that now was as good of a time as any to discuss the previous night's revelations with Nero, especially since you had no way of knowing when you would see him again. It occurred to you that this was not exactly an appropriate conversation to have in the middle of a public place so, if you were going to have it tonight, you would have to figure something out before he left to go back home.

By the time his car pulled into the parking lot, there was only slightly less than an hour before the store was due to close, leaving you with much less time to look around than you would have liked. Whatever you ended up choosing would be less than ideal, but you supposed that even a cheap set of dishes would be better than eating most of your food out of mugs for the foreseeable future.

You knew roughly where the dishes were located: somewhere on the ground floor near the back, where they kept the large items that remained mostly untouched, which took the form of mattresses and rows of dusty appliances.

Your pace slowed a bit as you reached the mattresses and you made a mental note of a few of the things you passed, saving them for inspiration for when you could finally get yourself another proper bed, before continuing on toward the kitchen section.

"What about this one?" Nero asked.

He held up one of the numerous dish sets for you to see, which was simple but decorative, each one featuring a brown glaze on the outside and a blue one on the inside. You walked over and took it from his hands, then took a moment to examine it.

"I don't know," you said. "I'm not sure it's really my style."

"Which is what?" he asked. "Because most of your stuff looks like you dug it out of the dumpster behind an antique store."

You turned to him, your mouth agape.

"Hey," he said. "I call it like I see it. To be honest, you guys are way overdue for an upgrade."

You placed the set back onto the shelf with a shake of your head.

"Fair enough," you said. "Most of it is stuff we were given as gifts or got at-"

"At thrift stores, right?"

You chuckled.

"Yes," you said. "Thrifting is really not as bad as you seem to think it is, I promise. You really shouldn't knock it until you try it."

"No, I think I'll leave that stuff to the experts," he said.

Your love of thrift stores was something you and Kyrie had bonded over almost instantly, much to Nero's bewilderment, when you'd first been introduced to her.

But now that he'd brought it up, you had to admit to yourself that you'd never really had much of a distinguishable personal style, especially where decorating was concerned, instead opting for whatever was either cheap enough for you to afford at the time or was handed to you in the form of gifts for your birthday and the various holidays. Perhaps it was time to step out of your comfort zone a bit where matters of design were concerned.

You lifted the set back off the shelf and examined it once more.

"I think I'm gonna get this after all," you said.

"See, that's the spirit," said Nero.

"Now, where did Vergil run off to?"

You could have sworn that he'd been following behind you only moments before, but now, he was nowhere to be seen.

The two of you began to glance around the store, your eyes scanning the rows of mattresses that lay before you, before you finally spotted him a fair distance away standing in front of one of the racks.

"There he is," you said. You walked off toward him with your newly acquired kitchen set in hand. "I found one. What do you think?"

You held the box up for him to see and he took a quick glance at it, but you could tell that he wasn't terribly invested in your choice.

"It's nice," he said.

"What are you looking at over here?"

You glanced up toward the shelves he was standing in front of and found them to be full of small, decorative items that didn't appear to have any significant purpose attached.

"I've just been wandering around," he said. "I'm ready to go if you are."

You returned to the front of the store, then headed back out into the parking lot, resolving on your way there that you would bring up the conversation you'd had with Vergil on the ride back. You found yourself getting inexplicably nervous while mulling it over in your head on the walk back to the car even though, logically speaking, you could not imagine Nero's reaction to the information being a negative one.

But, as you thought about it more, you realized that it had nothing at all to do with a fear of his reaction, your anxieties instead centered around the fact that stating the ideas you had discussed out loud to someone completely removed from the original conversation made the entire thing that much more real to you. And, upon realizing this, you reached another conclusion: that it was not only anxiety you felt, but also a small bit of excitement as you considered the implications of this.

As you were still in the process of carefully planning out what you were going to say, Nero's voice cut through the silence that had previously filled the interior of his car.

"Are you guys hungry?" he asked.

It was then that it occurred to you that you hadn't eaten anything since just before you'd started unpacking.

"I've hardly eaten all day," you admitted. "Is anything open this late?"

"I know a place," Nero replied. "There's a burger place a few blocks down the street from your house that's open until two AM. Good to know about in case you find yourself in another situation like this."

"A situation which could be avoided in the future if you remembered to eat regularly," Vergil said.

"What was I supposed to do?" you asked. "Most of our dishes are broken."

"That hardly stopped you before."

"Hey," said Nero. He took a quick glance into the backseat. "No fighting back there."

The three of you shared a laugh and it was then that the ever present atmosphere of tension had begun to dissipate at last.

The restaurant Nero had mentioned was small with unassuming signage on the outside, bearing a name that you didn't recognize. If he hadn't made a point to bring you there, you probably could have driven past it a thousand times without paying it any mind at all.

The inside was much the same, its aesthetic modeled after an older style diner. Upon entering, you were immediately greeted by one of the employees, who led you to a booth near the back of the almost completely empty restaurant.

As soon as you sat down, your anxiety started up anew. You took a sip of the water you'd been given, then finally resolved to speak up.

"So," you said. "While we have the opportunity, there's something we've been wanting to discuss with you."

"Uh oh," Nero said.

"No, it's nothing bad," you assured him. "But, it is a bit more on the serious side."

"Are you sure we should bring this up now?" Vergil asked. "It might be a good idea to discuss it further before we make any final decisions."

"Who knows when we'll be able to get together like this again?" you asked, lowering your voice in spite of the fact that you were sure that Nero was still able to hear you.

"Now you really have me intrigued," he said.

You laughed from an equal mix of nerves and genuine humor.

"Well, we got to talking yesterday," you began. "And we were discussing the possibility of having a child of our own, but we didn't think it was right to make such a big decision without your input."

Nero's eyes widened.

"Oh," he said.

"I know it's a lot to think about," you said. "I don't expect you to come up with an answer for me right away."

"It's just…" He took a sip of his own water and took a moment to think. "… Are you sure you guys are ready for that? Especially with the house how it is."

"It will be a bit of a process, for sure," you said. "But, it's something we've begun pretty seriously considering for further down the line."

"I see." Nero smiled. "I guess I'd be a big brother, then. Man, what would that be like? I've never really thought about it before."

"I think you would fill that role well," Vergil said.

You turned to look at him, your expression one of surprise that morphed slowly into a smile.

"I agree," you said.

"Now I feel like you guys are buttering me up for something," said Nero.

"Not this time," you said. "We mean it."

"Well, I definitely don't see why not," he said. "If that was something you really wanted in the future."

You smiled up at Vergil and he smiled in return. Now that you had managed to get that off your chest, you couldn't even remember why you had been so nervous to bring it up in the first place.

* * *

It was after midnight by the time you finally returned to the house. You may not have gotten much work done on it, but you could hardly regret this after the lovely day the three of you had spent together. You had managed to get a set of dishes, so at the very least, it was unlikely you would have to return to the store for a little while.

You and Nero said your goodbyes as he dropped you off, then you immediately headed inside and began to put away your new dishes before you had the opportunity to procrastinate on doing so.

Vergil removed his jacket and placed it into the closet, then walked over toward you and hovered just behind you, as though he were waiting for something.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He was silent for a moment longer.

"I'm sorry if I was a little quiet today," he said.

You set the stack of cups that was in your hand onto the counter and turned to face him.

"You did really good," you said.

"You really think so?" he asked.

"Yeah. I almost fell out of my chair when you said that Nero would be a good brother." He smiled and you wrapped your arms around him. "You're trying, just like you said you would."

"I suppose I'm afraid that it's not enough," he said.

"Well, are you giving it your best?" you asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"Then, it is enough. Your best is always enough."

"You're sure?"

You nodded sharply.

"Positive," you said.

"I'm just never quite sure how to make it up to him, after what happened."

"You already are. You're making it up to him by being there for him now." You returned your attention to the cups and placed them into the cupboard. "I can tell he appreciates it, even if he isn't very good at expressing it either. You two are a lot alike, you know."

"I should hope Nero doesn't turn out too much like me," he said.

You chuckled.

"Oh, stop," you said. "Remember what I said before? You're really not as hopeless as you think you are."

"I'm trying to believe that," he said.

"It's a process, remember? You don't have to be perfect right away. No one expects that from you, except maybe yourself."

"I've never had much cause to think about the future," he said. "I suppose it's a bit of a foreign concept to me."

You placed the last dish into the cupboard, then closed it and returned your attention to him.

"Well, you have all the time in the world to think about the future now," you said. "Exciting, isn't it?"

"With you, yes," he said with a nod. "The future is clearer to me now than it ever has been in recent memory."

Your heart swelled as he said this.

"I'm glad," you said. "I think we can do this. As long as we have each other, yeah?"

"Yes," he said, and he actually sounded convinced of it this time.

"We just have to keep moving forward, one step at a time."

"And the first step involves finally clearing away all of these boxes. We must get a proper start on them tomorrow."

"Yeah, you're right," you admitted. "How about we work together this time?"

He hesitated for a second, then said, "yes, that probably would be faster, wouldn't it?"

"Definitely."

With that settled, the two of you finally started up the stairs toward the bedroom, with the promise of much more hard work ahead of you after you'd gotten your much needed rest.

"By the way," he said. "You never did tell me what you were laughing about in the car."

"Oh, that," you said. "You being so overprotective of Nero got me thinking."

He cocked an eyebrow at you.

"Oh?" he said.

"And I just couldn't help but imagine you freaking out every time our child got themselves into the slightest bit of trouble."

He huffed.

"I would do nothing of the sort," he said.

"You totally would," you said.

"I guess we will have to see."

This statement, even if it had been said in jest, solidified to you just how seriously he was taking this and it only served to fuel your excitement as you continued to think about what your future together would look like.


	5. Yin & Yang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Vergil decide to take a bit of a break from your more pressing responsibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* What year is it? ;A; So, this chapter got a lil delayed, mainly because I was originally intending on doing a time skip from the last one to the next, but then I got all these ideas about what happened in between and I accidentally three more chapters, including this one. Also, I'm very tired while writing this after proofreading this behemoth for what must be the thousandth time, so you'll have to excuse me if it's a bit disjointed. I'm still not 100% satisfied with it, I must admit, but if I keep staring at it, I'm going to officially lose my mind.
> 
> Anyway, let us not beat about the bush any longer. You may have noticed that the rating has been bumped up from Mature to Explicit. Consider this the coming attractions for all the depravity that is to come. It contains my most deviant fantasies, such as taking a moment away from the chaos of life to just relax for five goddamned minutes. On the real though, this chapter ended up being incredibly self-indulgent, so I hope y'all find it to be as much of a wonderful escape as I did while writing it. We're laying a lot of important foundations here and I must resist the urge to just get right on to the good stuff. 
> 
> Also, I hope everyone out there is still taking care of themselves during These Unprecedented Times(tm). Since this is our first thirsty chapter, everyone go get yourselves a big glass of water before you start reading. 'u' Oh yeah, and this chapter finally comes with a song! Not officially an inspiration song because I found it after it was finished, but I feel like it fits the overall theme of everything that's happened thus far. It is More Than Enough by Alina Baraz. If this is your first time hearing about her, you owe it to yourself to listen to more of her music. She is a certified bop.
> 
> Anyway, this in and of itself is getting way too long, which I guess is fitting. On with the show!

"What even is this?" 

You lifted a plastic contraption from one of the boxes, which appeared to be some kind of utensil, and held it out in Vergil's direction.

"I have no idea," he replied. "I found it tucked into the back of one of the cabinets and assumed it to be of importance to you."

"Well, it's not," you said. "We must have gotten this as a gift. I'll put it in the donate box."

You tossed it into the empty box that you'd laid aside for this purpose, then continued digging through the one you'd started.

As you had suspected, the unpacking was getting done much faster now that the two of you were working together. Vergil had his pride and, of course, you recognized that, but you also recognized the distinction between doing something efficiently and doing it impressively.

With his help, you had managed to make it most of the way through the kitchen things by about midday and had now focused your attention toward the living room, most of which was empty aside from the boxes and packing materials littering its floor.

"We should take note of what we need," you said. "I'm planning on ordering some furniture when I get a chance."

"So, you've finally taken to using chairs like a civilized creature," Vergil said.

You lifted a spoon from the box and pointed it at him.

"You're on thin ice," you said, and he smirked at you.

You began to walk the living room in search of things that needed your attention. The only piece of furniture you currently had for this area was the couch which, even then, was quite old and could stand to be replaced somewhere down the line. You placed this pretty low on the priority list and moved on to the next.

Toward the top of the list was definitely a set of dining chairs, if for no other reason than to get Vergil to finally stop making fun of you, along with bookshelves and a stand for the television.

And of course, you would need to acquire a new mattress and a bedframe for upstairs, which you could already tell were going to be quite the ordeal to get into their proper places. Your old apartment had had only a single floor and, if you had been choosing a house for yourself, you most likely would have gone for one without stairs for this reason.

And then, there were other, less significant things that you stuck on the list: a desk, paint for the walls, a few plants for inside and outside. You definitely didn't want to leave the yard bare, as it currently was, but you figured that it would be wise to wait until spring to begin planting anything. 

As it was now, the last heat of summer was finally beginning to slip away for good, the nights growing colder with each day that passed, so you had quite a while before you would need to think about gardening.

You honestly found yourself a bit overwhelmed at the scope of it all. When you had been living in the apartment, your options had been fairly limited, both by the amount of space you had and by the conditions of your lease, but now, you were permitted to do just about anything that struck your fancy and you weren't at all sure where to start.

"It might be better to shop in person, actually," you said. "That way we can get a better idea of how big everything is and whether it will fit or not."

You turned toward Vergil, expecting him to give his opinion on this, but instead, you were met with a disapproving stare.

"There is no need to rush things," he said. "We will have plenty of time to get everything we need. Just focus on the task at hand."

You sighed.

"I know," you said. "I just wanna get all this over with."

He gave you a sympathetic look.

"I understand," he said. "Still, it's best not to overwhelm yourself. You'll be able to work more efficiently if you don't."

"Just like we work more efficiently when the two of us work together," you said.

You couldn't resist such a perfect opportunity to get back at him for his comment about the chairs and he looked almost impressed with you.

"Well, we won't be able to get any work done if you don't focus, now will we?" he said.

You stuck your tongue out at him, then returned to the box you had been working on and promised yourself that you would give it all of your attention until you had finished.

And, to your surprise, you were actually able to do this, maintaining your focus until you had made it through two more boxes, in addition to the one you were working on. When you went to open a third, you found it to be full of decorations that belonged in the bedroom.

"Looks like I missed one," you said.

You knelt down to pick it up, then began to walk toward the stairs.

"Are you sure you can manage that?" Vergil called over to you.

"Yeah, I got it," you said. "It's just full of wall art, and stuff."

He appeared skeptical, but didn't protest further.

"Okay," he said. "Just, be careful."

You nodded, then lifted the box onto your shoulder and started up the stairs.

It did end up being a bit harder to get all the way up to the second floor than you'd anticipated, but you had managed to make it all the way there without any major incident, aside from an isolated case of stumbling over your own feet. You set the box down onto the landing, then shoved it into the corner with the rest of them and headed back down the stairs, taking a moment to catch your breath when you reached the bottom.

"Perhaps it's time to take a break," Vergil said.

"It'll take us six months to get all this shit unpacked at this rate." You took a few more deep breaths. "Perhaps what it's time for is to enlist some help."

"Nero, you mean?" he asked.

"Nero is busy this week," you replied. "But Dante said that he would be willing to stop by if he got the chance."

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

"I suppose he does owe us that, at least," he said.

You had to admit that you were a bit surprised by his response.

"I didn't expect you to agree so easily," you said. "I trust that the two of you can set your differences aside for an afternoon or two. No point in making this house more of a mess than it already is."

Vergil began to break down the box he had just emptied, a bit more aggressively than was necessary.

"That depends more on him than it does on me," he said.

You smiled, then pulled your phone out of your pocket and sent Dante a message.

_I don't suppose you'd happen to be available tomorrow to help us get the house in order,_ you typed. _You owe me :)_

"So, shall we take a break?" Vergil asked, repeating his earlier sentiment. "We've been at this for several hours now."

"I guess it wouldn't be a bad idea," you said.

You were already beginning to feel a dull ache in your shoulders and you were sure that this would only intensify by the time you awakened the next morning.

"I thought perhaps we could take a walk around the neighborhood," Vergil continued.

"A walk?" you said, your lips curling into a smile. "How romantic."

"A bit of fresh air would do us some good, I think."

"I think you might be right. Let me change into some real clothes."

You were currently wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, seeing as you had had no plans of leaving the house at all today. You looked at your phone again to check the weather to find that it was fairly pleasant, if a bit chilly, so you decided that a light jacket and a pair of jeans would be enough.

And so, you returned upstairs to dig through the small bag of clothes that you currently had available.

The only thing that you were able to find that matched this description was a sweater, which you had stolen from Vergil quite some time ago, and the old pair of jeans that you had worn out to the store the previous day. They had been your favorite for a few years at least but, as you lifted them from the floor, you noticed a few small rips in the left knee and finally admitted to yourself that it may be time to get some new ones.

As you removed the t-shirt and pulled on a bra you'd fished out that was equally in need of replacement, you suddenly felt the hair on your neck bristle, as though someone had begun watching you.

"How long have you been standing there?" you asked.

You turned toward Vergil, who stood just beneath the doorway.

"Long enough," he said, and he gave you a sly grin.

You had always wondered how he managed to move so silently, but you had a feeling that he wouldn't give you a proper explanation, even if you asked.

"Is that my sweater?" he asked.

"What, you didn't notice I took it?"

You pulled it over your head with a bit more of a flourish than you would have if you had been alone.

"I suppose I didn't," he said. "I have three others just like it."

You chuckled.

"I know you do," you said. "That's one of the things I love about you."

"The fact that I own four of the same sweater?" he asked.

You walked up toward him, then rose on your tiptoes so that you were able to kiss him.

"Yes," you said.

He looked down at you, confused.

"So, the foundation of your love for me is based around the contents of my closet," he said.

You stroked your thumb across his cheek.

"It's hard to explain," you said. "I guess, I find these little habits of yours endearing."

He nodded.

"I see," he said, but you weren't sure he completely understood. "Well…" He slipped his hands beneath the sweater and lifted them until its hem sat just above your thigh. "… It looks quite a bit better on you than it does on me."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that one," you said.

He leaned down, closing the distance between you and allowing you to drop your heels back to the ground.

"We disagree on a great many things," he said.

He removed one of his hands and took yours within it, entangling his fingers with yours.

"Just another thing I love about us," you said.

He smiled, then pressed his lips against yours, slow and deliberate, but not in a way that suggested he was holding back. Rather, he was attempting to tease you, as he so often did.

Every time you tried to deepen the kiss, he would pull back ever so slightly, using your rather substantial height difference to his advantage. That was until you reached up and gripped his face between your hands, forcing his lips back onto yours.

"Aren't you eager?" he said, and you grinned at him.

"Only because you're so stubborn," you said.

Before you realized what was happening, he lifted you off your feet and threw you back onto the bed, then leaned down over you, his body hovering just above yours.

"I can show you stubborn," he said.

You stared up at him, your eyes already beginning to glaze over as your mind grew clouded with lust.

"I thought you wanted to go for a walk," you said, and you couldn't help but laugh as you reached the end of your statement.

"I did," he said. "But there are other forms of physical activity I've become more interested in."

You rolled your eyes.

"Later," you said. As much as it pained you to do so, you lifted your hands to his chest and gently pushed him off of you. "I need to stretch my legs and, if you fuck me now, I'll be too tired to walk."

"I'll make sure of that," he said.

He pressed his lips against your neck, prompting you to push him again.

"Come on," you said. "What's that old saying? 'Good things come to those who wait.'"

He sighed, then stood up and extended his hand toward you.

"You would deny it," he said. "But you can be just as stubborn as I can if you put your mind to it."

You took his hand and stood as well, then went to put on your jeans.

"We're just stubborn about different things," you said. "That's another reason we work so well together."

You turned to him with a smile and he gave you the same confused look as he had when you'd mentioned the sweaters.

"Finish getting dressed," he said. "I'll be waiting downstairs."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room.

After the unexpected turn the evening had taken, you weren't quite as enthusiastic at the prospect of going on a walk as you had been, but you knew that it would be a good idea to get out of the house for a little while as the cramped, musty atmosphere had been threatening to drive you crazy since you'd first set foot into it.

You threw on a pair of socks and sneakers, then headed back down the stairs, where you found Vergil already standing by the door waiting for you.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

You nodded and he opened the door, allowing the two of you to step outside.

In all the chaos of moving, it had been a very long time since the two of you had had a proper chance to spend some quality time together like this, and you knew that you likely wouldn't get another for quite a while, so you intended to take full advantage of it.

You took his hand in yours and stepped out onto the darkened street.

Although the surrounding air was a bit cold, as you had expected it to be, it was a welcome change from the stale air that was circulating through the house. You supposed that you would have to add replacing the upstairs carpets to your task list in order to rectify this problem, and probably get the place tested for mold.

You grimaced at the thought.

"What is it?" Vergil asked, humor evident in his voice.

"Oh," you said, suddenly realizing that you'd been pondering this for quite some time. "I was just thinking, you don't think there's mold in the house, do you?"

He laughed.

"What?" you asked.

"Even now, your thoughts are on that wretched house," he said. "Are you ever able to shut off your mind?"

"Sometimes," you said, and your thoughts travelled back to him hovering over you on the bed. "In select situations."

"Is this one of them?"

You looked up at him and smiled.

"Yes," you said. "I think it might be."

Even if it was a bit dark, there was still just enough sun left peeking over the horizon for you to get an idea of the layout of your new neighborhood. Many of the houses looked similar to yours in terms of size and architecture, but the exteriors were almost all unique, covered in a number of different colors, ranging from a more typical light brown to a unique bright pink.

The area itself was quite old, as evidenced by the rust-tinged edges of the street signs and the flickering of some of the lights above you, but as you continued to wander through it, you began to grow used to it, even coming to find it a bit charming. You realized that, the more time you were spending in your new home, in spite of its flaws, the more it was beginning to grow on you.

"I guess it's not so bad," you said, and Vergil turned to look at you.

"The neighborhood, you mean?" he asked.

"Everything," you replied. "The house and the neighborhood. It will definitely be nice to be so close to the local shops, and to Nero, of course."

"It's not what I'd have chosen," he said. "But I suppose it does have its advantages. And besides." He turned back to look straight ahead. "I've never really had a proper home aside from the apartment we shared."

"Neither have I, now that I think about it," you said. "It will be a brand new experience for the both of us, I guess."

He suddenly stopped, then turned toward you and grasped your hands in his, forcing you to stop as well.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"I just," he began. "I had a thought and I would like to share it with you."

"What is it?"

You gave him a warm smile and his eyes fell to your feet, an expression crossing his face that suggested he was trying to find the perfect words.

"I've shared a great number of new experiences with you," he finally said. "Experiences that I never could have hoped to have before I met you. This world of yours is so foreign to me and I must admit that I feel a bit lost within it sometimes."

"I feel the same way about your world," you said. "All that stuff you and Dante get up to is completely foreign to me."

He smiled.

"Perhaps I'll tell you about it someday," he said. "Give you a glimpse into my side of things as you have given me a glimpse into yours."

"More than a glimpse, I hope," you said. "I want to share everything with you, even if my world is a little more boring than yours is."

He nodded.

"I want the same," he said, and your heart swelled. "In due time."

"What, you think I'm gonna run away?" You gripped his hands tighter. "Well, you're stuck with me. Forever."

He chuckled, then turned to continue walking with your hand still held tightly in his.

* * *

You ended up making one small circle around your neighborhood and, by the time you made it back to the house, your face and your hands were slightly numb from the cold, but overall, you were feeling much better than you had been before you'd left. 

You went to remove your shoes and set them by the door when suddenly, you felt Vergil's hands slip back beneath your sweater, causing you to squirm away from his cold fingers.

"Yikes!" you exclaimed, and this only prompted him to grip your waist harder.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Yes, cold!"

You squirmed again and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him.

"Come," he said. "Let's go upstairs."

"Just like that, huh?" you asked. "So, while I was out there being all romantic, you were thinking about—"

"Dragging you back upstairs and having my way with you?" he interrupted. "Why, yes, I was."

You gave him a disapproving look.

"How perverse," you said. "At least let me get these clothes off first."

"But, I'm so much better at taking them off than you are," he said.

He slipped his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, prompting you to leap away from him with a shriek.

"No more touching until you warm your hands first!" you shouted, and you took off running toward the stairs.

You had no idea why you thought you would be able to beat him to the bedroom. He must have allowed you to get a head start because, just as you reached the edge of the landing, he scooped you up into his arms, then carried you through the doorway and set you gingerly onto the floor.

"Now, where were we?" he asked.

He lunged forward, pushing you back onto the bed and resumed his place hovering above you.

"So impatient," you teased.

His eyes were dark as he stared down at you.

"If I recall correctly, you were the one who started this," he said.

He ran a finger along the edge of your jaw, then slowly pressed his lips to yours with just a whisper of the restraint he had exhibited before you'd interrupted him. He was through with teasing you for now, it would seem. Either that or he had run out of self control over the course of the walk you had taken.

"Was I?" You raised an eyebrow. "Because, if _I_ recall correctly, you were the one who was staring at me while I was just trying to get dressed."

"Only because you looked so alluring while doing so." His eyes traced over the lines of your body, his hands following the same path. "I think it's fair to say that it was a team effort."

He grabbed hold of the hem of the sweater and lifted it so that your abdomen was exposed, then placed a hand, which was now quite a bit warmer than it had been, against your skin, pressing just hard enough so that you could feel the weight of it.

You made your best attempt at nonchalance as you looked up at him, but found the pretense slipping away the longer you held his eyes.

"You're not too tired, are you?" he asked.

You shook your head.

"Nope," you said.

You were sure that you would regret denying the fatigue that was already building in your muscles, but you resolved to deal with this when it actually became a problem.

"Good," he said. He pulled the sweater all the way over your head and placed it into the empty space beside you. "Because I have plans for you."

"That's why I wanted to wait," you said.

He pulled his hand away, placing his lips where it had been as he began to make his way toward the end of the bed, kneeling just in front of it as he went to remove your jeans.

"Your heart is racing already," he said as he slid them down your legs and set them onto the floor. "I can feel it."

You looked over at him, curious.

"Feel it?" you asked. "How?"

"I can sense it, I mean," he replied.

You felt your face growing hot as what he said began to sink in.

"Have you always been able to do that?" you asked.

He smiled, clearly understanding the implications of this.

"Yes," he replied.

He placed his hands on your legs and gently coaxed them into a raised position.

"So, you knew I liked you then, way back when we first started talking?" you asked, and he nodded.

"You're not as subtle as you seem to believe you are," he said.

He pressed his lips against the inner edge of your thigh and you sighed, your eyes falling closed as his tongue followed the same pattern.

"I could always tell," he continued. "How your breathing became erratic whenever I spoke to you, how your cheeks flushed no matter how hard you tried to hide it." He paused, prompting you to look at him again. "As they are now."

Your flush only deepened in response to him pointing it out and he smiled again before returning his lips to your thigh.

The two of you had long since passed the point where you had become comfortable with each other and you seldom had a reason to feel embarrassed or ashamed in his presence anymore, but a part of you hoped that he would never lose the ability to fluster you this way, to take you back to those first moments when you'd begun to become aware of the feelings you held for him.

"I suppose I find your embarrassment endearing in the same way you find my collection of sweaters endearing," he said.

"See, now you're starting to get it," you said.

He placed one more kiss just below your knee, nipping at the skin there before bringing his face back toward your center, his lips hovering just above the thin fabric of your panties.

So, he wasn't through teasing you after all. You should have known better than to assume that he was.

"Come on," you groaned.

"You want me to touch you?" he asked.

The feeling of his warm breath as he spoke made your skin tingle.

"You're infuriating," you said.

"What was it that you told me earlier?" he asked. He ran his tongue along the inside of your thigh, just above where you wanted it. "'Good things come to those who wait.'"

You rolled your eyes.

"So unfair," you grumbled.

"I suppose I've made you wait long enough," he said.

You lifted your hips, allowing him to remove your panties and then, at long last, you felt his lips wrap around your clitoris, finally releasing a bit of the pressure that had gathered there. You moaned and raised your hips just above the surface of the bed, but he placed his hand back against your abdomen to steady them.

From the moment the two of you had first been intimate together, he'd always had a very dominant side, a side which he had struggled to keep contained until he had gotten to know you better. But now that he had become more familiar with your boundaries, he no longer exhibited the same degree of restraint.

You attempted to lift your hips again, prompting him to press even harder.

"Behave," he scolded, and he gave you an intimidating stare before returning to his previous activities.

You squeezed your eyes shut and your hands grasped whatever happened to be within reach, which took the form of the comforter that was lying beneath you. He was so good at this, his tongue somehow managing to create the exact amount of pressure that was needed, occasionally easing up for just a moment before intensifying to new heights. Though, it did make sense, given his earlier admission. He had much more intimate knowledge of your body than you ever could have imagined and the thought of it brought the pleasure you were experiencing to an entirely different level.

He could tell how fast your heart was beating and how heavily you were breathing, even if both were barely audible, even to you, and you had to wonder if this information had the same effect on him as it did on you.

You moaned again, your grasp on the comforter tightening as you tried and failed not to raise your hips again. This time, however, he made no move to stop you or scold you, instead taking a tight grip around your legs as he increased his pace to a nearly unbearable level.

Your body began to jerk in spite of your efforts to stop it, the only thing holding you in place being his hands, which he occasionally repositioned in order to keep you at the proper angle.

You grasped harder at the comforter, your fingers and toes curling in unison as you felt yourself beginning to approach your release.

But at the moment just before it hit you, he pulled away, leaving you aching even more than you had been before he'd started.

"Not yet," he said.

He stood up from the edge of the bed and removed his outer clothes, leaving him in only a pair of boxer briefs that were just as plain as the rest of his wardrobe, in a dark navy blue, which made his lower half look like one solid block in the darkness. It wasn't until he lowered his body back onto yours that the extent of his arousal became apparent to you.

"Are you done depriving me now?" you asked, your face morphing into an exaggerated pout.

"Yes," he said. He worked his finger beneath the cup of your bra and gave it a firm tug. "Sit up."

You did as he asked and he reached behind you to undo the band of your bra.

Or, at least, he made his best attempt to, but try as he may, his fingers only fumbled uselessly against the point where the hooks were joined together.

"I got it," you said.

You lifted your own hands and managed to get it undone in a matter of seconds. The dexterity he had with his tongue did not extend to all of his bedroom activities, it would seem, and you couldn't help the smile that emerged at his expense.

"Thank you," he said, and your smile only grew wider.

You reached behind yourself again and slipped your bra off, allowing it to fall to the surface of the bed just beside the sweater.

"That's better," he said.

He reached up and took your left breast in his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

"I'm not sure I'll ever understand your obsession with my boobs," you said.

As if to emphasize your point, he reached up and grabbed the other, kneading both of them between his fingers.

"I'm not sure I understand it myself," he said.

He leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swiping over it in the expert way you'd come to expect from him. You may not have understood the fascination, but you definitely appreciated it, arching your back into his touch in a silent urge for him to continue.

"They're just so wonderful," he said.

You laughed.

"Are they?" you asked.

"They are," he said. "As is the rest of you."

He dropped his hands to your hips and pulled you onto his lap, his nails digging into your skin as he pressed his erection against you.

"Your body is so beautiful," he continued. Your eyes followed the fingers of his right hand as they traced over the curve of your hip before dropping back down again. "And it's all mine."

He gripped you hard, pulling you toward him until there was no space left between you, and pressed his lips to yours with a level of need that you suddenly found very easy to match. It became apparent to you in that moment just how pent up you had become, your mind and your body instead occupied by things that you felt to be of more importance as of late.

But now, you could think of nothing else, the only thoughts that filled your mind focusing on the warmth of his body, and of his lips and hands, and how good it felt to grind yourself against him as you began to slowly roll your hips.

You pulled away and stared up at him with hungry eyes.

"Take these off," you said, your fingers gripping at the fabric of his boxer briefs.

He kissed you one more time, then stood again, hastily removing his last article of clothing before practically pouncing on your waiting body, forcing a squeal from your lips.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Very," you replied.

He reached across to the small bag that sat just beside the bed to retrieve a condom from its place in the inner pocket and, although you knew it was necessary, you began to feel the urge to tell him to put it back. Through your lust addled mind, the words from your recent conversation began to take on a new meaning as you recalled them now.

As he went to open the packet, you raised your hand to stop him.

"Can I put it on?" you asked, and he nodded.

You had a bit of difficulty actually tearing it open and you had partially expected him to comment on this, but instead, he remained entirely focused on you, his eyes following your every movement as you took the condom in your hand and rolled it down over his length.

He closed his eyes, his breathing deep but steady as you pumped your hand up and down a few times.

"You know, I'm starting to wish we didn't have to use these anymore," you admitted. "After what you told me."

You were sure that, if you had been in full control of your mental faculties, this would have been a bit more difficult to say.

"I've had the same thought," he said. "But, it's too risky. I'm still not fully in control of those urges I told you about."

You bit your lip as your eyes traveled back up to his face.

"So, you're still feeling them now?" you asked.

"I told you, I always do," he replied. "To varying degrees."

"And, you don't think you would be able to resist, even for a little bit?"

He gave you a smile that could only be described as sympathetic.

"I think you underestimate the power they hold over me," he said.

You had known that he would say this, or something like it, before you even brought it up to him, but your logical thoughts did nothing to stem the desire that flowed through you as you began to imagine what him losing control in this way might look like.

"I get it," you said.

His eyes grew dark again as he leaned over you, positioning himself just at your entrance.

"Someday I'll have a better handle on it, perhaps," he said, and your arousal spiked again.

"Someday, perhaps, you won't need to," you said.

He smiled again.

"We'll see," he said.

He placed his hands on either side of you to steady himself, then pressed into you, as slow and controlled as always.

The reaction you felt was immediate, your muscles clenching around him as an intense feeling of relief washed over you as he began to fill you.

Even with the barrier in place, you suddenly found it difficult to imagine anything better than this, than the sensation of him easing in and out of you at a torturously slow pace, massaging your most sensitive spots with each pass.

Still, the thoughts that had always been in the back of your mind began to slowly creep back toward the surface. Neither of you had ever been foolish enough to go without protection—even without the issue of impulse control, you recognized that it was a bad idea—but that had never stopped you from fantasizing about what it would be like. Now more than ever, you had begun to crave the feeling of his bare skin against yours.

You looked up at him, your mind clouding over completely as you stared into his eyes. His pupils were nearly all the way dilated, drinking in every detail of your face as he stared back. He looked so intense, crazed almost, and you were jolted by a shot of pleasure as this thought crossed your mind.

"Faster," you gasped.

He paused for just a moment, taking the time to adjust the angle of your hips before continuing at a much faster pace than before, causing you to take a tight grip around his arms to hold yourself in place.

You were already beginning to feel yourself getting close again due to his prior teasing, but you willed yourself to resist it, to prolong the feeling for as long as you could possibly manage.

Your nails raked across the muscles of his arms, which flexed beneath your fingers with each thrust, as you attempted to reposition yourself to keep him from hitting the spot that was threatening to send you over the edge.

But he was determined to keep you exactly where you were, your hips pinned firmly beneath his legs as he continued to thrust into you, his pace steadily increasing.

In spite of your best efforts, you felt your body begin to go numb as your orgasm overtook you, all of your limbs tightening as your head fell back against the pillow just beneath you.

Although you had been expecting it, you were caught off guard by its intensity, leaving you shaking as you began to come down and you had a bit of difficulty lifting your head again once it was finished.

"I'm not done with you yet," Vergil said.

You only managed to get out a quick, "what?" before he flipped you over onto your stomach and continued to pound into you, reminding you of just how necessary it had been that you had asked him to wait earlier.

You released a contented sigh, surrendering yourself to him as he pinned your body beneath his, his hands once again resuming their tight grip around your hips.

He pressed his lips against your neck, kissing it a few times before he bit down against the space below your jaw, just barely reaching the point of pain.

You cried out, all of your nerves still alight from your previous orgasm, so much so that you could barely tolerate the amount of stimulation that continued to flood them. Your body squirmed beneath him, entirely against your will, but he continued to hold you steady with ease, his hands raising to find yours as he pinned you down further.

"I want it, too," he said, his voice harsh as he pressed his lips against your ear.

"What?" you asked.

"I want-" He grunted. "-I want to cum inside you."

It was at the sound of these words that you suddenly reached your second orgasm, fueled by the image that formed in your mind as a result of it, and at the realization that he shared your most deeply held desires in spite of his hesitation.

His movements suddenly slowed and he kept your hands held tightly in his as he reached his own release, signaled only by the soft sigh that he breathed against the base of your neck.

As your senses returned to you for the second time, it became apparent that it was entirely impossible to move.

"I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow," you said, your voice broken up by your panting breaths.

He kissed your cheek, then went to stand up and walked off in the direction of the bathroom.

"Good," he said.

You could already feel the familiar ache radiating out from your hips and down your thighs, a reminder of where he'd held you. It was a feeling that you'd come to love, but what you weren't so fond of was the fact that it would likely be quite a hindrance to getting any work done the following day.

You laid there for what felt like an entire ten minutes and, as soon as you were able to move again, you made your best attempt to stretch out your sore muscles, even though you knew it wouldn't do you any good. Just as you did, Vergil finally emerged from the bathroom.

"Shall we get back to unpacking, then?" he asked.

Your eyes widened.

"You can't be serious," you said. "I don't think I can even stand after all that."

He chuckled.

"I'm only joking," he said. He set your discarded clothes aside, then took the place beside you on the bed and wrapped his arms around you. "Like I said, there's no need to rush things."

"You're right," you said, and for once, you felt yourself starting to believe it. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble…" You batted your eyelashes at him and he gave you a questioning look. "… I don't suppose you could bring the TV up here so we could watch a movie together?"

He suddenly looked too stunned to speak, just as you had been a moment earlier.

"Come on," you said. "I'm trying to be romantic here."

He continued to stare at you for a moment, then said, "alright."

He then stood up, pulling on his shirt and boxer briefs before making his way toward the stairs.

"Thank you!" you called.

You then lifted your side of the comforter, wrapping it around yourself and settling further into the bed as you waited for him to return. Although you were sure you would awaken the next day with sore muscles and regrets, you were glad that you had taken him up on his offer to help you take a moment to relax.


End file.
